The Invitation
by So Guhn
Summary: An underground organization that "kills demons"; kidnapping all sorts of people to bring them closer to power. Her calling him ‘sempai' just wasn't funny anymore. AU, SessKag. Chapter 3 UP.
1. dynamic duo

a/n: what the crap. I swore I wasn't going to touch this fandom anymore. SHAME FIC. Yeah I ship this. It can be puhretty fucked up if people did it right. (But lol I can't even do it right.) IC at its OOC best. I think my whole arm just got carpal syndrome for writing this at 12AM. Good job self.

_An underground organization that "kills demons"; kidnapping all sorts of people to bring them closer to power. Old family rivalries. Her calling him 'sempai' just wasn't funny anymore. AU, SessKag._

_The Invitation_ **; R - action/romance/psychological - Sesshoumaru x Kagome**

Chapter one, dynamic duo.

Her calling him 'sempai' just wasn't funny anymore.

It's not like it had ever been.

He's regretting it already, buying her those boots for her "birthday", the kind that fits all the way to your knee, lace up and lace down, and with a sharp thin heel- he has no idea how she manages to run in them. But it's her first birthday gift since ever, since her memories had been taken away (as his), since her very surname had been taken away as well. It's his first gift to her; it had been a passing, indulging, impulsive buy, the kind of buy he's never done before, a buy he could not resist. So there it had been in a long heavy box, swathed inside around the pair that kind of tissue paper you only put in gifts, topped off with a satin red bow. Her clapping her hands and giving him all sorts of endearing looks he dares not recollect upon later.

She's not too fond of the colour red, he soon discovers.

Those boots are a faded blue, more grey, he doesn't realize he bought them because he thought they'd match her eyes. He doesn't realize this until, October (a code name, false) points this out detached. He coldly denies this sentiment with the very fiber of his being, though it lingers, hauntingly on the senses.

It's only been five months but he's used to her.

He can't say she's his "partner" that's not how it works here. Your code name is called and sometimes it gets called with others when missions are assigned. However with newbies it's a more permanent fix until the boss thinks they're ready to go solo. That's what Sesshoumaru is to her, this new girl. This trainee. He is her _sempai_. A word she without fail, abuses on him at every chance she gets because he doesn't allow her his name while she allows him hers.

(On her first day she asks him, dark hair curled vaguely bought the edges, falling past her shoulders so swiftly he is deterred in attention to find that this is gravity's work at its finest. It's the first time he hears her voice and it's surprisingly a pitch lower than he had expected, but sweet nonetheless, "Did you get an invitation too?"

It's the voice of the older sibling. But he dares not tell her that. Talk of the old life is not smiled upon.)

He hadn't replied had he? He doesn't remember, it doesn't seem important now, with the swift pull of jyaki combing through the air, striking near them, air rushing by sweetly uplifting laced clothing, black dress, black suit, black tie. She'll tell him their clothes are boring and then she'll tell them it's normal and easy. She'll tell him she'd like to wear white on Wednesday and yellow on Friday and she'll never get to do either because they are only allowed this one colour.

It wouldn't look good if they weren't in uniform after all, a job was a job, even if it was endless.

They had no where else to go but here, and here was neither an exciting nor boring place to be.

"Sempai!" she calls to him, poison fading from his claws. This slip of a girl, if he'd run across her on a busy street he'd never had expected to see her in combat had the boss not chosen her to be part of them; but obvious- the boss had chosen her with reason. Those horrifying purification powers that had (to his grievance) almost lost him an arm (the second day, and her mumbling every single apology she knew, she didn't know that would happen, was he okay, did he need to lie down, did he-?) Her feet are rough upon the pavement as she skids to a sharp halt before him, a laid out barrier already within their reach, hand extended as if to say 'stand back!', no demon can get to them here without the promise of death, but that promise still hangs when- "Kagome,"

She turns to slightly smile at him for uttering her name-

-aiming her pistol to the withering demons above, each mutated and growing, and combusting together at joining forces. Death comes swiftly to them through her bullets with every shot, dissolving, purified. The barrier makes his teeth almost chatter, his slightly sweaty brow, if he had been a lesser demon he would not have been able to stand in it to begin within, that and her very presence. Though clumsy and untamed in both self and powers this girl could be. The boss says he took her in because she was useful, would be, and that demons came to her like magnets. Other than that there is no other explanation, it's not needed. Not needed to pawns.

(Where is pride in-)

He almost smiles.

He almost frowns.

She releases the barrier, demon debris falling and fading into the aftermath of the cleansed air, her smile would have been infectious to all. All except him. She cocks the gun upward, away from him, the barrel skyward; she is waiting for the smoke to dissipate so she may tuck it in (chained hanging loosely from the handle to a belt tucked under her clothing) to its rightful, hidden place.

"What?" her brow cocked in that mischievous way only young girls can accomplish. It looks all shades wrong and that effect is not lost on her. She holds the gun tip up near her lips and blows the smoke away, like cowboys in those foreign western movies do. Hand at her hip, teasingly almost- "And you thought I couldn't take them."

He doesn't look too well.

She leans forward worriedly, hand falling to touch barely upon his shoulder, then immensely boldly. That was Kagome for you, invading your personal space when she was concerned, when she deemed it necessary, when she wanted to help.

That's probably when it got dark.

--

October has her arms folded (her real name is Kagura though), and looks down at him on the bed. It's not dignified, and a little embarrassing, that he. Was sick. In bed. And this haughty arrogant woman was looking down on him. 'What do you want' isn't said, she wouldn't have answered him anyway even if he had asked that.

"You're going to die if you keep staying by her side."

The room is small, white, like the sheets, funny how they wore black all the time, but their head quarters were always white, white, white. Maybe the boss was colourblind.

"It's my job," comes out dryly, dry not in mere tone. He needs some water. He'd like some.

Kagura holds her arms about her tighter, disapproving, suspicious. As if the world will crack if she should loosen them. "Do you think..."

He never really talks, it's the mission that needs to be fulfilled that matters. But Kagura, she always had something to say to him, and sometimes he had something to reply with. That's how it worked. What was it with him getting involved with women whose names always seemed to start with the letter 'k'? This is their world. They of the organization don't know anything else. Their history, their life of before is erased and they exist to serve their boss. It's rumored the boss only takes off those who hate their previous life, or have an empty life, so that they don't go searching for it. Not even curiosity wants to be quenched, the mark from before forgotten but still felt. They're also not pressed to desire to remember. Least he's never and those around him have never (but sometimes he wonders about her; Kagome, would she want to? Vibrant, young, she looks no more than she is, not yet ripe.)

Kagura often speaks even when he is not listening, the imitation of him doing so is more the point than the matter, and "...the boss purposely chose you to train her? It's true you've been here along time, but this organization exists to destroy demons, do you think he's indirectly using her to try to kill you-"

He tells her to shut up.

--

Kagura isn't there after he told her that.

She was going to get shot if she said such things, even if it was he boss's intent to do so, he cannot be stopped, Kagura's mouth however can.

He doesn't like being in bed so he sits up. Counts the tiles that's on the floor but he can't really see. It's bright in here he realizes, air flooding into the room as a door slides open and Kagome comes in with a tray, humming what has to be a song she's picked up on the radio, because she shouldn't know anything else.

She places the tray before him, another smile. He can't admit it sends his heart racing, ill proximate. He's just thirsty is all. (They're just lonely is all.) He drinks the glass of water that's on the tray, by a medicinal smelling bowl of soup. They are the only two things on the tray, aside from a spoon. He finally notices he's not wearing his suit anymore, more like a white hospital own. It annoys him. A spoon comes up to his mouth. It's her trying to feed him, he can feed himself but-

-that humming.

That isn't a song from the radio, he realizes, two bites. Three bites, four. On the fifth he catches her wrist, soup spilling on the sheets below, a startled "Oh no!" from her mouth, comes. She's not one for messes, always liking to be clean, taking a shower twice a day, and cleaning the counter tops just as often. He's seen her room with bare clean walls, and empty book tops without what seems to be even a speck of dust. She likes new books because they smell fresh, she often tosses out the old ones and buys them anew because she cannot stand the old musty smell (and had he been a different, entirely different person he would have joked to her, "Will you throw me out too?" she's young and he's old; that won't change.)

"Look what you've done," she mutters, untucking a long white napkin from what appears to be nowhere, trying to wipe the soup away, bending her fingers into his thigh beneath the covers, wrist slacking as her fingers desire to put the spoon down but cannot not with her wrist in the lock of his hand. His eyes ever so casually look over the edge of the bed, over the frill of her black skirt, looking to see the familiar scaled blue-grey of her boots. They're not yet worn. But they are probably the oldest things she owns.

When they do get worn he will buy her a new pair.

"That song."

Kagome looks at him, startled affection fleeting across the very iris to the pupil and across the iris all over again. He's not looking at her like she's looking at him, because he isn't looking at her at all, only those boots, that present.

"It's your song isn't it?"

He lets go of her wrist. The spoon falls on his lap. And she's feeling at it, her wrist, as if it has gone numb, swallowing insight into what has just happen, staring no longer at him but the wall, where is the camera? Will the boss know? He gives her the most reassuring look he can muster, it comes dull and difficult, she doesn't understand it.

"Sing it for me?"

A child's song, to which children play. It comes softly, hushed, as if might she sing too loudly the words shall, the melody shall, be taken away from her.

_Kagome, Kagome_

_The bird in the cage_

_At the evening of dawn_

_A crane and a turtle slipped out_

_Who's that behind you?_

A glazed look brought back to life, she turns that familiar smile back on him, only a touch different (like being in the same house only to enter a similar room from the one you left), "There's no one behind me. You're teasing me aren't you?"

Words softly said as that sung song that should have been left unsung.

He picks up the spoon and places it on the tray, "Perhaps I am."

Drawn out, her indented brow, and gentle fingers gripping at the sheets underway, forgetting that the soup is growing cold- "Sempai..."

It was never funny to begin with.

The light flickers, dims, her lips aren't that red anymore, a pouted light undertone of pink. Creamy skin contrasting against the white sheets (always white, she once said she rather their armbands be white not red, and he had pinched at hers, murmuring, "But then they'll just end up red anyway." And she had been silent after that, for many minutes, before perking up again, "Say, do you like to listen to Vivaldi?" Just so eager to say a name unknown.)

He doesn't remember if he had answered her then. It didn't really matter. All that matters is her downcast gaze, flickering over to him, once again telling him, "There's no one behind me."

His hand falls down upon her head, it's not a blessing he's placing upon her, it's probably just the very edge of a curse, the curse he's surely in as well, ever since he bought her those boots and the simple thought that the falling snow that had been caught upon her shoulders on her third day needed to be brushed off by his fingers, and only his.

"That's right."

Moving through a lock of hair, claws slicing through straying strands, can't catch midnight there- she's frowning, it doesn't look right. Falling against her face, over her lips, her chin and gracing them with touch there for what has to be no longer than six seconds. And that's a long time.

"No one is behind you."

He gets what he wanted to see.

She smiles.

--

r&r?

...idk about going on with this.


	2. square boxes

a/n: nvm apparently I'm what you call a "stupid person".

_The Invitation_ **; R - action/romance/psychological - Sesshoumaru x Kagome**

Chapter two; square boxes

The doctor says sempai had just been overworking himself. For that that may be true. Even though everything appeared to be done effortless on his part, surely that would eventually result in some sort of retribution? Wearing down. Lately when they go on a mission (exorcise a demon here, exorcise a demon there, and retrieve this artifact!) he's been letting most of the work fall on her; she always thought that was just him- sort to speak- reaping the fruits of his labour. He trained her really hard the second month, tirelessly not letting her do near anything the first. It wasn't until the third month that he let her do actually anything to assist him. But little by little he came to rely on her more; it made her happy, but it also troubled her. Of course she would help her sempai, but at what cost? If he needed to say in a hospital, if-

His hands fold over hers, she's holding up his set of clothes. A black suit, tie undone but still neatly folded on the front, it's new and in plastic, but the exact same as before. Things are easily replaced here. They've been given a three days leave (because while she can still fight, she's still not ready yet, not ready without sempai-) he takes his clothes. She backs out of the room, closing the door gently behind her, already feeling the longing for days with missions. Where they lined up at the counter and pulled out a tab, or even sometimes! Get an envelope from a pretty secretary who sits at a desk. They'd memorize the information on the card or sheet of paper and then burn it (usually on the drive, ashes out the window to the wind), she wonders why he has a lighter when he doesn't even smoke. She asked him about it and he told her maybe he used to, it is his only tangible memento of his last life and it's actually not allowed, she promised not to tell. Even though his face didn't look like he particularly cared either way she thinks it meant something.

They exorcise what a different sempai (her code name was April, but later she whispers to Kagome that her real name is 'Sango', the only memento they're supposed to have, sempai is a cheater) calls "small fry". Little demons who are more animals than like the thinking individuals the few demons they have work in the organization are. Rumours went around that Sango is the boss's daughter, since she is a descent from a long line of exterminators- however that is all she knows. If she really was the boss's daughter, why would he erase her memories? They had mulled over this for some time before the rumour dried up. Kagome doesn't see Sango much, but she likes her. Definitely the older sister type.

The door clicks open behind her, and she almost falls back into the room having been leaning upon the door. A slight wind milling of her arms to find her balance, the telltale twitch of sempai's arms behind her are left not noticed. She whirls to greet him. "Three days," she says, he somewhat scowls at the prospect of rest, but no one goes against the bosses' orders.

He walks past her, brushing by as she hastily turns to let him through, clipped steps rushing to catch up with him. He walks fast when he's mad, she doesn't think he really notices it. She does it too, a lot of people do.

Sunlight filters through the tall glass windows upon the white tiled floor, everything is pristine here even for a "hospital". Her steps are somewhat loud; Sango had asked her why she wore such shoes if they were only creating noise that would give her away to the enemy, to anyone so quickly. She had only replied that, it wasn't only the enemy that could hear them, her comrades would too. Sango thought that was faulty logic, and lightly she had rapped a knuckle on Kagome's head, chiding.

When they get out into the street, sempai hails a taxi. A mere lift of the hand, arm. The cars belong to the missions, not to daily, regular life. They ride in silence to her assigned residence, a new apartment complex neither expensive (bad view) nor cheap (walls that don't easily crack). She's behind him on the metal staircase for sometime, even through the hall before she asks, "Aren't you going home too?"

He usually doesn't escort her.

He gives her a faint nod, already not looking too well again, what was the doctor thinking? She bites her lower lip, thoughts moving fast- before pinning a hand over his shoulder, intent obvious before even said. "Would you like to rest a bit before you go?"

--

She's making him tea.

He's sitting at her small dining table. With its two chairs just in case this sort of situation arises. She had rather he lay down on the couch but he had refused. It's like him to keep going till he can't no more, otherwise that would have been (crudely put by someone's voice she doesn't recognize but is entirely familiar to her) 'half-assing it'. The pot filled with tea, with water, cups on saucers, moving all at once to bring these items to the table and pour. He drinks too quickly for it to have even cooled. She frowns.

Sits down opposite of him, vaguely reminded of what he sometimes would do when there has been a job well done (mainly on her part)- that was, go out to a café together, this small French place that seems too good to be not as crowded as it was not. She would pick out whatever slice of cake that caught her fancy (usually a rich amount of chocolate was involved) and perhaps coffee, and then they would sit and she would eat, sometimes catching him looking at her, sometimes catching him looking at nothing, or perhaps the wall which makes her lips quirk and he would not very often ask what was so funny. She saw him only order once and it was tea.

Her cupboard is now carefully stocked with tea.

She knew it would come in handy.

--

She convinces him to sleep.

So he's nodding off on her couch (sitting and subtle, you couldn't tell he was trying to sleep, she wonders if he can manage sleeping even with his eyes open, it's a scary thought). She sits not next next to him, just next to him with a whole other seat between them, nervously picking at the laces of her boots. She wears them even in her house until she goes to bed or knows she will be staying home for a few long hours. They had come as a surprise. No one knows their actual birthday any more, but it was like he insisted that she had one. In the depth of April he had shoved the box before her and explained it just had to be spring.

Had to be spring when she was born, she had shamelessly quipped she thought he had been born in the summer at the time and logic had failed to explain her reasoning (least to him, it made perfect sense to her!) She leans over that other seat's space, scooting to only get to her feet, turning to lightly touch at his arm. "It's better if you sleep on a bed."

He's too tired to resist her.

And eventually that is where he ends up, not even bothering with the covers just lying atop of them, she removes his shoes, he having not taken them off when she had not paused to deal with her rather inconvenient ones, determined to get him sitting on a chair before anything. He's almost lying on the center, but not, she's seated to the left, back to her, one knee pushed up as she starts to undo the laces, untying, unknotting, unhooking, of her boots, before she has little restraint and can actually slide her foot out. By the time she has both shoes off he's sleeping, she looks back to him.

He knows where she lives but she doesn't know where he lives.

She lies down aside him and just looks at his face, contemplating why ever did he give her a birthday.

--

In this world demons and humans live together, but not upon the other. Like cats are cats and dogs are dogs, they live in the same world, but they never marry. Laws were bound to make peace. Often people rebelled against these laws. There were more humans than demons. Process and elimination. Eat and be eaten. But the organization is her world and she does what she's told.

As does he.

It was going to stop one day but until then she still just wants to call him sempai.

--

That doesn't work out too well when he wakes in the afternoon on the next day to her sleeping face. Unsure of why he shakes her to reality to tell her, "Just once, you can say my name."

She says it, a look of complete and utter concentration written about her features, as if the pronunciation is difficult but still comes out sounding exactly like it's supposed to sound.

"Sesshoumaru."

The world turns backwards then.

--

r&r, this fandom isn't dead yet huh.


	3. sound of calamity

a/n: sup guys. Still stupid as you can see. Oh and this chapter has what I call "more hinting to the actual plot" and you thought there wasn't going to be any plot. Wait. It wasn't plot you were looking for? D:

_The Invitation_ **; R - action/romance/psychological - Sesshoumaru x Kagome**

Chapter three; sound of calamity

_Sesshoumaru._

As if by her saying his name he, Sesshoumaru actually exists.

He sits up on the bed, turning to stand, wrinkled suit and all- just to face away from the sweet gesture of her hands tucked beneath the side of her head, the very way he thinks princesses in fairytale books slumber (but he hasn't seen, read, heard a fairytale in such a long time, he thinks that if he had a mother she isn't one to tell such stories) reality grips him harshly, or has it been an illusion all along? It's his silence that deceives others, not his words.

Kagome, jerkily rises as well, brow crumpled, and lips now hesitant at the idea that though it had been his request, she has displeased him (it's frustrating, and had he been feeling well these past weeks perhaps she would have scolded him.) Never ask for something painful, only- she clears her throat quietly, almost breathless, strands of dark hair sticking to her cheek.

"Bre-breakfast... I'll go make some?"

She often burns the food, familiar with the task but no longer familiar with the concept, she hastily brushes the wrinkles on her clothes, about to take her leave before once again his hand strikes out (faster than her eyes may follow) to snag at the nearest lifted wrist. Sunlight clogged behind the dark curtains that cover her window. What is freedom? Her eyes bore into the side of his face, trying to find an answer to whatever question he wishes to ask, she finds none.

"Sunny-side."

Her arm jerks in surprise. It is not a question at all; a disbelieving noise starts out her mouth unable to be retained.

He lets go of her wrist, she rubs it exactly the same as the last time, the first time. Still he does not look at her. "Is there a problem?"

"Well..."

Though she can't see his face she can feel the lifted brow, struck in inquiry. Her words come out dashed, as if trying to catch their place in a race before the others, "I always thought you were more a scrambled egg type."

This time he really does look at her, silver hair dull by the shadowed room. "Why?"

Her mouth gapes. "Because..."

Waiting for her answer.

Her fist meets her palm, a pointed pointer finger drawing up momentum to her reasoning; that palm to her hip, "Because sempai can actually be very short tempered and impatient, so I thought- scrambled!"

She gives a little swallow at his flat look that is more a glare. Kagome sheepishly holds her hands behind her. Contemplating bolting for the door when once again-

"And? How do you like your eggs?"

A pause, swiftly as her answer came, "Boiled."

There's a scoff, she almost asks him what that means but instead spots the clock.

"Oh no!" as if she's found out that Christmas isn't today but was yesterday and she has slept through it; in their case the only thing that has been slept through was- "It's already noon!"

She gives a startled look that has so much clarity put into it he is at a loss of words, only replying, somewhat gently, as if speaking in any other manner would shatter her, "So?"

Blinking.

"People still eat eggs for lunch do they not?"

She gives him such a beaming smile before she disappears around the door frame that the image is imprinted in the mind's eye longer than anticipated, and he really has no idea what to do with it. He usually has no idea what to do with her.

--

They eat toast and eggs for lunch.

--

Sesshoumaru thinks he has an idea now.

When he comes home his apartment feels cold though it's June already. It's usually cold he remembers, the heater doesn't help even in the winter but he never bothers to see if he can fix it.

--

The three days are gone; it's easier to move when she's not around, but it just made things much more... boring. He spent the leave sleeping. He spent it under a spray of water to clear the temptation of ending up at her doorstep again. She calls him twice during that time, and no he doesn't need anything, he only needs what he doesn't want to ask her to give.

They're waiting in line in that white white building, that's white inside and out it must be a pain for them to hire janitors to maintain its tip top shape clean. He tries not to study the way one of her arms appear folded, the elbow poking out, or how her hair has gotten longer, or the way her lashes flick when she tries to look behind her and appear as if she not. He looks at his watch as she moves ahead of him, thanking the secretary at the desk, they try this every time. She'll try to get the envelope, and it would be directed to him.

But not this time.

It means she doesn't need to be with him anymore.

It means she's been assigned to do something alone.

"Sir?" the secretary asks, peering up at him through slanted locks of what must be dyed light brown hair, she has an envelope for him too. It takes 30 seconds before he actually takes it.

--

The hospital.

Is the first place she has to go, anticipation fills her. Her first job without sempai... she's stuck between missing him and reveling the freedom of responsibility, she is capable and trusted now, it delights her to the very core (but not the same way when his hand, as if it had had no intention to begin with- brushes back her hair over her shoulder while they're edging down a dark alley, slowly to the target. When he glances at her like he's not looking, like earlier today. Their little visits to that new yet old café...) she clears her throat, making a nurse nearby jump.

"We've been expecting you," the nurse who has jumped tells her, rushing to grab her arm. Kagome pulls it back warily; it is stuck in her grip.

"You have?"

The nurse has dark, bobbed hair. Kagome thinks it must be nice to be a nurse. She likes white. Their white uniforms.

"November... right?"

Her code name comes out hushed and secretive, as if no mistake should be made. It makes this feel more like a mission and less like misplaced reality where her name really is, really was Kagome. This nurse must work for the organization. But what is her assignment, Kagome thinks, she'd been given a time, a place... but the task? What was there to exorcise in a hospital? Ghosts? She almost laughs at the thought.

The nurse tugging on her arm, "This way."

Down a darkened hall, one of the lights have died, she's led through double doors, more doors, into a room thronged with people, all nurses, all doctors, her heart shoots to her throat. What?

They grab at her and lead her to a white bed, all sorts of silver and white and pushing her down and this time-"What?"

"Please excuse us, but your operation must start now." A nurse says, holding up what Kagome assumes will go over her mouth, the straps snap into the back of her head, she tries not to breathe deeply, but it doesn't matter, things are starting to get fuzzy and heavy all heavy, she feels her legs swing over and be placed on the bed by sturdy able arms of what is another nurse.

"It's for the better you know... you'll get stronger. You'll be able to help the organization better."

The last thing she remembers is the heat of bright lights and the buzzing click it sounds when turned on.

--

Her throat is dry.

Did sempai have to undergo this same procedure? She doesn't think so; he was strong already because he was a demon. She swallows slim air down her throat. Kagome doesn't feel any stronger, just a tad woozy and her hip is throbbing. Her hip? She pulls at the sheets and can only see the bulge of bandages through her hospital gown. Startled when her door opens abruptly and a nurse carts in what appears to be a tray of various pills on it.

"Um," Kagome says, twisting the sheets in her hands. Her uniform, would she get it back?

"What happened?" she asks instead.

The nurse turns to smile at her and she thinks the nurses all look similar with their bobbed haircuts. She has to take some pills. She does. And then the nurse leaves. Leaves her to the thrumming sound of the light above her. Eventually her hands relax and she falls back asleep.

The next time she wakes up a doctor is at her bedside, looking over her charts, her info. He's not the same doctor as before (she thinks); he nods toward her, "Awake?"

She gives a hesitant nod that could be read as feeble.

"Good. It's a lucky thing we got that tumor out when we did."

Her lips are dry; she thinks she can whistle through the chapped skin. "Tumor?"

He nods, "Yeah. There was a tumor on your right hip. Could have prevented you from walking in the long run had we just left it."

Kagome thinks he's smiling at his pun, or she would have- had her mind not been racing, tumor? All her routine check-ups had never mentioned anything like that. Had they been hiding it from her? A familiar dark haired figure is leaning on the door frame, knocking. Kagome breathes out what she didn't know was a held breath.

"Sango."

--

She's been discharged already. Apparently she slept for three days. The taxi drives on, unsure of which road to take at the dividing ahead. Sango is jabbering on about some new member that goes by "March", who often gets partnered with her because of their so called "capability". He's always trying to touch her butt, and makes flirty comments about how their "names" are next to each other for a predestined reason. He wasn't bad looking... and even had the gal to offer telling her his real name to her right away. Sango keeps crossing and recrossing her arms, a clear sign of irritation. Kagome would usually giggle or tease at this sort of talk but she thinks the medication is giving her side effects, her vision is blurry and something, else... it is sharp and sure and clear and edging- like the shrill of purification throbbing in her arm only taking a different shape, direction...

...direction.

"Left or right?" the driver asks, nodding his head back at them.

Both road leads to where they want to go but, "Left."

Kagome tells him just as Sango tells the driver "Right."

Her friend shrugs and tells him to do as Kagome said. It grows quiet after that, Sango stuck in the memory of her irritation, catching on Kagome's sleeping, nodding head as they sail over the near clear road, the radio statically mentioning that the road they had not taken had had a truck flip over on it and everyone on it was being delayed.

--

"I have a present for you," Sango tells her and hands her a slip of paper.

It's been a whole week since she's seen sempai. Those three days of being knocked out not counted. Apparently something was going on and he wasn't getting as many regular assignments. Was he sick? There's an address over the slip of paper and she doesn't even have to ask.

"People will do the darnest things for you if you let them touch your butt," a good humored smile, before a sharp look, "Once that is."

Sharper, "For three seconds."

--

There's a knock on his door.

Sesshoumaru opens it to see her, lightly panting between large gulps of air, her hand fisted over her chest; he almost asks her if she'll be fine. She's shaking her head, elated- before he can even note that her hair is sticking to her cheek again- she's thrown her arms around him. "Sempai!"

Fifty whole seconds pass like this before she pulls away, asking how he is feeling while he only wants to ask her where she has been, but their conversation is cut short when her eyes fix ahead, at his dinning room table that you could see a single sitting of sticking out from the foyer. Kagome looks surprised, blinking back up at him, turning back to that spot. "I'm so sorry!" jibbering out.

"I didn't know you had company, excuse me!" and she's running, back to him, away from him, hasty steps, turning to the stairs not even bothering with the elevator, just emleaving/em. And Sesshoumaru turns to the seat she was looking at, he having no company whatsoever, or ever. Seeing conclusively and only finding the chair as empty as it truly was.

--

a/n: Oh Kagome what am I going to do with you. More action later. :

r&r. OH WAIT. Don't read and review. Reverse psychology isn't going to work either huh. I think this story is turning into one of those unintended write when I don't feel like writing everything else I'm supposed to be writing fic.


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